The Consequences of a Lack of Foresight
by Misato'sPenPen
Summary: Ed finally breaks down after losing his alchemy and seeks guidance from Mustang and they discover feelings for each other. Roy/Ed Yaoi and a little Kimblee/Roy
1. The Oversight

Major spoliers for the entire manga and Brotherhood anime! Do not read if you haven't finished either! The lemon isn't for a long time, this is a long one.

Roy blamed himself, he should have predicted this. He was so dedicated to his subordinates, why didn't he see this coming and plan for it? He was going to be stuck with the consequences for the rest of his life.

—

It was nearly four years since Bradley's death and the defeat of the Homunculi. Ed had traded his alchemy for his brother and, once he became reaccustomed to his body, Al traveled east to Xing and Ed to the west, both to study alchemy in order to reinvent it.

Ed's research was over and Al was still in Xing. They had corresponded, but had not seen each other in two years. Ed shipped off all his work to his brother, the only one of them who could put any of it into practice, and returned to Resembool.

Winrey met him at the train station, but this was not the same confident, happy Ed that had left two years ago. For two days Ed tried to act normal, but it was a sham. Winrey tried to bring up Ed's spirits with her own buoyant attitude, but all he could manage was a sad grin. He didn't even get testy about his height—although he had gained an inch or two—or argue about drinking milk (he still didn't drink it though).

On the third day, Ed said "Winrey, I know I sort of asked you to marry me when I left, but . . . I'm not so sure right now. I . . . I need to go."

Winrey let him go. Pinako cornered him as he was packing. "Just like your father, can't stay put."

"It's not the same thing."

"I'm sure." She didn't sound sarcastic.

"What do you think Pinako, should stay I marry Winrey?"

"Not in the state you're in now. Most men are lying when they say they need to find themselves, but I think you really need to. And I don't think you can do that here."

"Thank you, ba-chan, for understanding."

"Your father and I were drinking buddies; I drank with all types of men and I think I know a thing or two about you men."

On the station platform, "Where will you go?" Winrey asked.

"I'm not sure yet. When I get there, I'll let you know."

"Will you go to Xing?"

"I don't think so. Goodbye."

The train headed east. Ed tried to figure out where he needed to go for . . . Understanding? Comfort? Advice? He didn't even know what he was seeking, but he needed to talk to someone. Not Winrey. Not his brother. He needed to talk to an alchemist, a friend. There was his master: she could be scary, but she could also be motherly. No, he didn't want to go to her. Who did that leave?

The train was headed east. East. Ed had come to associate the east with Mustang. Roy Mustang. He decided quickly, he would pay Mustang a visit in Central.

—

Ed took a roundabout route to Central. Once there, he made his way to the military headquarters. He stood outside for a while before going in. He went up to the receptionist.

"Um, I'd like to see Brigadier General Mustang, but it's more of a social visit. Um . . ."

Before he could go on, someone called to him. "Edward?"

Ed turned to see Hawkeye. "Lieutenant, I mean . . ." he glanced desperately at her rank insignia.

"It's alright Ed; you don't really need to worry about rank now that you're out of the military. It's good to see you. What brings you to Central?"

"I wanted to see the—I mean, Mustang. I didn't want to disturb him at work though. Now that I'm not under his command, it doesn't seem right to barge in his office anymore."

Hawkeye couldn't suppress a smirking smile. "I think he'd like to see you, but you're right; he is amazingly busy. He's practically Fuhrer. Grummen is more Fuhrer in name; most of the work he leaves to the General. Let me get you a car. You can do what you like and then the driver can take you to his home later this evening."

"If I'm not intruding."

She picked up on what he meant by the way his eyes shifted embarrassedly. "Oh, we're not together. He only got as far asking me out, but he quickly rescinded the offer even though I said yes. I think he has doubts about getting romantically involved with a subordinate, or anyone in the military, especially someone who was at Ishval."

"Oh. I just kind of assumed."

"I think everyone did."

"Thank you, Lieu—"

"Riza."

"That's going to take some time."

She smiled at him. "I hope you stay in Central long enough to get used to it."

Ed made use of the chauffeured car to see the rebuilt parts of Central and to see Gracia and Alicia Hughes. He managed to kill nearly the entire day. The driver drove him around until an hour after Mustang should have left headquarters, then he drove Ed to Mustang's home.

Ed hesitated, but finally knocked. Despite the lights being on, Ed prayed Mustang wasn't home yet; he wasn't so sure about this anymore. But the door opened.

"Hawkeye told me to expect you." Mustang was dressed in his uniform, sans jacket and gloves. Ed wondered if he'd ever seen the man so . . . underdressed. But his hair was slicked back without his bangs hanging in his face. Ed wasn't sure he liked that look.

"Sorry to come unexpectedly."

"Not so unexpected. Come in."

It was a really nice house, but it was still a soldier's house, nothing too fancy. And Mustang was an alchemist, so there was no shortage of books. Ed found himself drawn to the shelves. Mustang chuckled. That brought Ed back to himself; a little embarrass to be so easily distracted. Ed's reaction worried Mustang.

"What can I do for you?" Mustang asked, gesturing to the sofa. Ed sat and Mustang sat opposite him in an armchair.

"I just needed to talk to someone." He was nervous enough that he thought that was apology enough for bringing up something Mustang probably didn't want to think about. "Remember when you lost your vision? I was so impressed how quickly you adapted. Within the hour you were fighting alongside us despite being blind."

"With Hawkeye's help."

"But still. And you seemed ready to deal with it and continue on. I admired you for that; still do."

Ed didn't seem to know how to go on. "It's about your alchemy," Mustang offered.

Ed nodded and Mustang completely understood, more than Ed realized. It wasn't just his inability to use the science that had defined him since he was young and his greatest talent, it was also the fact he'd set himself on a single path for so long, to restore his brother's body, and now that it was over, Ed felt empty, without purpose. Mustang understood it and mentally kicked himself for not realizing this would happen.

Ed was shaking. "I'm so scared. I've always been insecure about my height, but I always had my fighting skill and especially my alchemy to defend myself. Now that my alchemy's gone, I feel defenseless. And useless. It wasn't bad around Al and Winrey, but once I left to research in the west, I felt insignificant."

"Like a snail's who's shell was removed."

"Exactly! Though I should take issue with the metaphor. I feel lost, empty."

Mustang knew from personal experience what Ed needed. He knew what he needed during those first few days in Ishval, but he never found it. He knew how damaging that could be.

Mustang came forward and knelt in front of Ed. "I understand." Ed looked at him for nearly a minute before he threw himself into Mustang's open arms and wept. Mustang held him.

"You're not insignificant or useless. You're brilliant, determined. Strong, physically, mentally, and strong willed. You're also the kindest person I've ever met. You never think of yourself, always thinking of how to help and protect others, utterly selfless. If it wasn't for your temper, you'd be what we all should aspire to be."

That didn't stop Ed's crying. Mustang didn't say anything else, but held him. He felt strangely honored that Ed felt he could come to him. They had always respected each other, but they could never have been called friends. Ed sniped at Mustang more than he spoke to him and Mustang smirked at Ed more that he smiled. Mustang felt more affection for the young man now. His hand found its way to Ed's neck and he gently massaged the base of his skull through the top of the golden braid.

Once Ed stopped the worse of his crying and shaking, he realized just how safe he felt. It seemed like Mustang's arms were molded just to hold him. He was glad he chose to come here.

It was some time before Mustang realized that he was all but petting the younger man and he stopped. That brought it to Ed's attention and he took Mustang's stopping as a signal to move away.

He backed very slightly and Mustang released his arms from around the slim frame. Ed couldn't look him in the eye.

"Why don't you stay the night and sleep?" Mustang offered.

"Thanks," Ed accepted. "I think the driver is still outside, waiting to take me to a hotel."

Mustang nodded and stood. Ed pulled his legs up onto the couch and curled up. Mustang was going to offer him his bed, but Ed looked too comfortable to disturb with the offer. He went out and told the driver to go home and took Ed's suitcase.

Ed was fast asleep when he got back. Mustang went to the linen closet, got out an extra pillow and blanket, put the pillow near Ed's head if he woke up and draped the blanket over him. Before he knew what he was doing, Mustang was tucking the blond in.


	2. Useless

Ed woke up a little more relaxed. Catharsis was a wonderful thing. There was a note on the coffee table in front of him.

_Help yourself to the kitchen. You're welcome to stay as long as you want._

Ed smiled. Mustang didn't always have to be an arrogant ass. Mustang stocked good coffee and apparently routinely made his own breakfast as there was plenty of fresh bread, eggs, sausages, and bacon. Ed had a little of all the above.

Ed wondered back out of the kitchen/dining room—it seemed the actual dining room was more of an expanded study as there were a few stacks of books and papers—with a mug of coffee in hand and a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth. He occupied himself the entire day reading Mustang's library. He was surprised not to find anything on Mustang's specialty, Flame Alchemy. He trudged through, having to respect the man more for his taste in research. The books and papers on the dining room table he left untouched, choosing to read on the floor or in the arm chair.

—

Hawkeye didn't ask about Ed all morning, but that was more because there wasn't time. At lunchtime, she pried Mustang away from the office to the officer's mess.

"Did Ed come over?"

"Yeah, he did. I let him crash on the couch."

"Is he alright? He seemed a little . . . less manic than normal."

"After all that's happened, we all have a new normal standard."

"True. Especially he and his brother."

"Thank you for not directly asking though. I don't feel it would be right to discuss his problems."

"I figured that. But I question his judgment in coming to you."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"Well, you aren't exactly the most sympathetic man in the world. And you were always sniping at each other."

"True. And I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought the same thing. But we always respected each other and we're both alchemists. I mean, we were."

"That's right; I forgot." And it all came together for her. "I guess you were the best choice to come talk to." Mustang wasn't as surprised by her insight anymore, but it did give him pause. "It's not like I lost my abilities."

"I know," she said simply.

"How do you do it?"

"I'm a woman."

"Humph."

—

Mustang worked late as usual. Hawkeye tried to shoo him out on time, but he resisted. She must have known Ed would still be at his house— Mustang didn't know that; he figured Ed would have eaten everything in his kitchen and left by now.

But then the phone rang. Hawkeye answered.

"Oh, hello, Edward." Pause. "Well, I did try to send him home, but you know how he is." Pause. "Grudgingly." Pause. "I'll force him to leave within the hour." Pause. "Goodnight, Ed."

"What the hell was that?"

"Ed wondered if he should make you dinner."

"Excuse me?"

"He got preoccupied going through your library and realized the time and wondered if you'd be coming home anytime soon and if he should make something for just himself or both of you. He's making something for both of you."

Mustang's mouth was gaped. It wasn't Ed reading his books, not even him potentially reading his journals or his official work—the journals were coded of course and would take even Ed several days to start to figure them out and the official papers . . . if he could get enthused about those he could work on them and save Mustang the bother—or him eating him out of house and home or the fact he was making himself at home—he did write that he could in that note this morning—it was the idea of someone making him dinner. It felt so . . . domestic.

"Are you just going to stare at me all night?"

"Better than the alternative," he muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry, General?"

"Nothing. I guess I can take a few of these papers home."

"Like the ones still there and overdue."

"I'll get them done. I guess I should go home and play at being a good host. What are you smirking at?"

"Nothing, General. Goodnight."

He muttered something in return. How was it he was always getting into strange situations when an Elric was involved?

—

Mustang came home to an unlocked door and the smell of decent cooking. Shucking his jacket, hanging it—next to a red coat, he noted—he made for the kitchen as he started pulling off his white gloves. The sight of Ed's ass protruding from the refrigerator greeted him. He couldn't suppress a smirk. _Not a bad thing to come home to._ He was horrified by the thought a moment later.

"I didn't suspect you were a chef," Mustang said, smiling at the desired affect: Ed hit his head against a shelf.

Ed turned with a carrot hanging from his lips. "You really are annoying when you try."

"I have to try? What you'd make?"

"Steak. You didn't exactly leave me many options. I was looking to see what vegetables you had for salad, but you don't even have lettuce. Why you have just carrots is beyond me."

"Good for the vision." That mortified Ed a little more than Mustang intended even with the smile he'd added.

Ed spied the sheaf of papers under Mustang's arm. "Hawkeye still a slave driver when it comes to paperwork?"

"Sort of. I'll deposit these and get cleaned up."

Ed couldn't help thinking, _If that's what you call messy . . ._ He shook the thought out of his head.

They were both glad that Ed's break down last night didn't seem to be causing any awkwardness today.

Mustang set down his new stack of papers next to his older ones and stared at the assembled lot on his dining room table. He picked them up again and moved everything to his seldom used—at least not for military work—study. He dusted off the dining room table's surface then went to change and clean up.

Mustang reappeared in the kitchen still in his white military undershirt, but in more comfortable casual pants. To Ed's surprise, he took the dishes back out to the dining room.

"But your—"

"I might as well use it for its intended purpose once in a while."

They both realized how nice it really was to eat like normal human beings once in a while. They were both habitual alone, at least at dinner.

To break the silence, Mustang explained, "It seems awfully lonely to eat in here alone, so I took to eating in the kitchen."

"But a good place for study," Ed commented. "Lots of light and room to spread out."

"Exactly."

"All alchemists are alchemist I guess." He was chagrined after he said it.

"Maybe you should give it up completely. If it's painful to be reminded, maybe you should avoid reminders."

"I feel like that would be a waste of my entire life up 'til now. It's one of the few things I know."

"How about teaching?"

"That would just be embarrassing. I know everything in the world about alchemy, but I can't even give a simple demonstration."

"When people hear why you can't do it, they will revere you."

"Like they'd believe a story like that."

"I'd back you up."

"You?"

"Of course. Brigadier General Roy Mustang and future Fuhrer!" Mustang posed as ridiculously as he could while sitting. Ed Snickered. "At least you'd be able to use your knowledge."

"Maybe. Resembool isn't exactly an alchemy Mecca."

"True, you'd have to come to Central or one of the other large cities. It's not bad though, right? At least you have friends here."

Ed smiled. "It's something to think about. By the way, sorry to still be imposing on you. I started reading while I was finishing my coffee and I couldn't stop. I can find a hotel tonight."

"After you made me dinner? If you want to stay, stay. Save your money."

"You were never this generous when we were assigned here."

"You were under my command. And there were two of you. And two State Alchemists under the same roof at the time with Scar trying to kill us all off? Not a good idea."

Ed nodded his agreement.

"How long do you think you'll stay?"

"Suddenly starting to regret the offer?" Ed said slyly.

"No, just wondering if it would be long enough to clean up the spare bedroom."

Ed was caught off guard again. "Well, you've given me something to think about. Teaching. I guess I did figure I'd take on an apprentice one day. I'll look into it. If that doesn't look like a good option, I'll go back to Resembool."

Was that a thrill of fear running up his spine? Mustang realized that he was lonely and he missed Ed's vitriol.

"Or maybe an advisor. You could be a civilian advisor to the State Alchemists. We've decided to reform the State Alchemists, not get rid of them all together. We're scaling them back. We want to deemphasize their military use. I hope we never have to use them again except as a last line of defense; never for offence."

"Hmm." Ed chewed for a moment. "You need a hand cleaning out the spare bedroom?"

Mustang chuckled and the worried knot in his stomach loosened.

—

Mustang took the dishes away, but Ed pushed him out of the way of the sink. "I'll do it. Think of it as rent."

Mustang accepted that and returned his paper work and books to the dining room table and tried to at least catch up while his guest was occupied.

Ed came out of the kitchen to find the dining room back to its pre-dinner state. Some finger combing allowed Mustang's bangs to hang attractively in his eyes like they did when he was merely a colonel with grand ambition.

"Anything I can help you with?"

"No, it's all drudgery."

"That's why I figured you'd need the help."

Mustang knew from experience you didn't argue with an Elric unless you planned to enjoy it. "Does looking up regulations sound too dull?"

"Not at all."

They started the evening with Mustang reading and signing and calling out regulation numbers and Ed looking them up and reading them to him, or Mustang paraphrasing one from memory and asking Ed for the proper number. All those years doing research came in handy. In between requests, Ed read through the regulations; if he was going to be reading any of these things, he wanted to completely understand it all. But soon Mustang was letting Ed handle things not classified and handed everything having to do with alchemy to him. With his help, Mustang finished everything before midnight.

"Finished. Thank you. I didn't mean to conscript you."

"Anything I can do to help. Despite the pep talk, I'm still feeling useless; it feels good to be of some use."

"Right now, I want you on my staff." They both chuckled. "I've only got a few hours before I've got to face Hawkeye. She'll know you helped me and I'm not looking forward to her scolding."

"You still have your old staff?"

"All but Havoc." Mustang smiled. "Marcho is wonderful. Havoc might come back in a year or so. But he's walking. I have a larger staff, but the others are all still with me."

"Mind if I follow you in tomorrow, say hi."

"Sure. Then we can commandeer a car for you again."

They made their way into the living room and Mustang toward his bedroom. He turned to speak, but Ed stopped him. "You have to be human and work in the morning and your sofa is very comfortable."

Mustang smirked. "Goodnight, Edward." He left him.

Ed hesitated before he started stripping. A sheet was thrown at him from the dark hallway. Ed turned to snipe, but he saw Mustang turning on his light with his back to him before he shut the door.

Ed smiled and bedded down. He fell asleep thinking how good his name sounded when Mustang said it.

—

Getting out of Mustang's car, Ed insisted on carrying the papers. "It doesn't befit a Brigadier General to be carrying huge stacks of papers like a flunky."

So Roy let him do it. He got a few strange looks from those who didn't know who this young man was, even stranger ones from people who did know. When they reached Mustang's door, he took the stack from Ed. "I don't want Hawkeye to see you carrying stuff for me."

"Oh?" Mustang and Ed's spines stiffened. They turned like boy's caught sneaking cookies to see Hawkeye right behind them.

"He offered," Mustang tried to defend himself.

"I see." She turned to Ed. "Nice to see you again so soon, Ed."

The Brigadier General turned to open his door with an armful of papers for his subordinate and former subordinate. One of his newer subordinates bolted up and took the papers from him, took them into the next room, and placed them on the Brigadier General's desk. The rest of the newer ones stood and saluted.

His _old_ staff stood for another reason. "Edward!"

Mustang saluted and said, "At ease." His _old_ staff never heard him. Roy stalked into his office while Ed got reacquainted with the others.

Mustang got his papers in order, got them ready to go out, and started on a new pile. Hawkeye came in with coffee. _Oh, god no._ She put the cup down and he stared at it as if some horrible creature, like Pride or that son of a bitch Envy, would spring from the dark liquid.

"Get enough sleep?"

"Adequate," Mustang answered.

"If Ed's disrupting your schedule, I can find him a place in the dorms for free."

"He's not disruptive. I mean, he's not an imposition."

"How many documents did he do?"

"Why do you assume he helped?"

"Because they're done."

"He helped me look up regulations."

"Of course, General."

"Will you stop it already? I didn't ask him. I'm sorry. You're right, I should do them myself. Okay."

She smiled. "How long is Ed staying?"

"I don't know. Maybe indefinitely. He's looking for something to do, I suggested a few things. If nothing pans out, he'll go back home."

"To Winrey?"

Mustang felt the blood drain from his face. His lips felt cold. "Probably. I don't think he's mentioned her."

_What was that smirk about?_

Ed was waiting just outside the door when Hawkeye finally left. He stepped in. "You know, I don't really have anywhere to go really. I think I've read every book in Central and there's not really anything else I want to do. Can I help?"

"I don't think so, Hawkeye brought me coffee."

Ed winced. Mustang decided he should taste it. He braced himself. It was . . . decent. There was still a look of shock when Hawkeye reentered.

"Edward, if you're going to stay, do you think you could help the General? He's useless with paperwork."

"Sure. I'd love to be of help." Ed was hanging up his coat and Mustang hadn't closed his mouth or schooled his expression.

_What the hell is going on in that woman's mind?_

—

Mustang cooked this time. With Ed's help, there were no papers to bring home.

"I think Hawkeye's hired you. I swear she manipulated this to get someone good at paperwork."

"Can a civilian do a Brigadier General's paperwork?"

"They can now. You better look into that teaching position before she digs her claws into you."

"I don't know. Seems like a comfortable position. And I can be of use to the future Fuhrer."

"I hope you don't feel like you owe me for anything."

"Not really. You were using us almost as much as you helped us. You got into all that while walking under your own steam. My father may have been involved and maybe even at blame for all of it, but I don't think I owe you enough to choose the rest of my life based on it. You got your vision back in the end. I suppose I would blame myself if you were still blind."

_I'm not sure I'm not still blind._ He was starting to get the feeling he'd been in denial for two days. _He's damaged, that's why you're feeling for him, it's nothing more,_ he argued.

"Well, if I'm ever in need of a seeing-eye dog I'll know who to call."

"I'm not sure Den would make a great seeing-eye dog."

Mustang chuckled. "Are you seriously considering staying with me? I mean, work for me? Again?"

_What does that slip mean?_ Ed wondered. "Well, I don't know if I can stomach doing paperwork all the time, but between that and the consultant job, I might consider staying here. In Central, I mean."

_He noticed._ Mustang tried to not let his dismay show. _You are not falling in love with him and he doesn't think you are; he's just needling you._ "I'll call a meeting tomorrow to talk about it with the appropriate parties."

"You know, going through the books you have out here, I was surprised not to see anything on Flame Alchemy; I didn't want to go into your study without your permission."

"The only book in this house about Flame Alchemy is my personal notes. I—"

"Say no more. I may not be one anymore, but I still write everything in code, even the crappy observations."

"There's no such thing. It's the smallest details which end up telling us the most when viewed in the right light."

_You mean like that slip earlier? The way you were practically stroking my neck the other night? Or the way I missed the loose, tasseled bangs you had back then? The desire I had to cook for you and help you with tedious work? The fact I came to you instead of my master and second mother? The fact I'm here for the third night whereas I only stayed two with the woman I thought I was ready to marry? How much I loved the way you said my name? That I crave your scent that I smelled that first night? Or the way you're staring at me now? They're all small details._

"I wouldn't trust anyone with your notes. I've seen how destructive it can be. It's dangerous even in the best hands." Ed gestured to Mustang when he said that.

"The best hands?"

"I supported you from the moment Hawkeye confided your plans. Hawkeye, Havoc, Furey, Falman, Breda, they will all follow you into hell. So would I. I trust you. One reason we would follow you into hell is that we know you wouldn't lead us there. You called me selfless; you're almost _too_ concerned for your subordinate's lives. Your kindness might be your downfall one day if it happens on the battlefield; sort of like that battle demonstration between us. It was mine, quite literally. I fell down a mineshaft and lost a few years off my life to close a fatal wound because I couldn't bring myself to kill even in self-defense. I wouldn't feel safe if anyone else knew the secrets of your alchemy and I don't want to know."

"Well. You can rest assured that there is no one else living who knows the secrets to Flame Alchemy. My master is dead with no other apprentices."

"I'm sorry."

"He didn't trust the military with his research. He was justified. Everyone who even heard stories about Ishval would agree. He wouldn't teach me after I joined the military. He wouldn't trust even an idealist like me. He was right not to. He left his discovers in a safe place though. I was entrusted with it. In the end it might have been a good thing, look where we are now. We've shaken off the Homunculus and his conspiracy." But Mustang didn't sound convinced. "Anyway. I'll be the last Flame Alchemist."

"I'm thankful to your master. The Flame Alchemist saved the world."

"I'm not the only one."

"I may have done a lot of good, but look at me now. I have no purpose anymore. I understand a little of what you must felt have after Ishval. But you had a goal. I don't have anything anymore."

_Oh god._ Mustang wanted to grab Ed and kiss him, take his mind off everything, all these depressing thoughts, the past, everything. He wanted nothing more than for someone to call him right now and offer him an escape. _Hawkeye, I know you have telepathy; please help me! Or if it's a bug, you know I need an out here, don't you?_

The phone didn't ring. Mustang tried to come up with something to say to counter Ed's depression.

"You'll just have to—"

The phone rang.

Stunned, Mustang answered. _This is not what I had in mind._ He said a few words and hung up.

"I have to go. I probably won't be back tonight; you might as well use my bed."

"I'll go with you," Ed sensed an emergency. "Maybe I can help—" Without his alchemy? "Right. Be careful."

Mustang grabbed his coat, gloves, and hat, putting them on as he rushed out the door. The way Mustang purposefully yanked down on the cuffs of his gloves was clear single that he was expecting to use them.

Ed was worried for him, but he reminded himself that Mustang had destroyed, or nearly destroyed, two Homunculi and helped him kill the boss himself. Similar to what Ed did in that mine shaft, Mustang had used his own flame to cauterize what should have been a fatal wound. Mustang wouldn't die easily.

Ed took his advice and used his bed. When he laid his head on Mustang's pillow, he took a deep breath expecting to smell the man, but the sheets and pillow cases were fresh. He lay there trying to feel Mustang in this room. It wasn't working. With a curse, Ed got up and picked out one of Mustang's shirts from the hamper in the bathroom. He could smell him. Ed buried his face in the white cotton.

The flinty smell of those gloves was everywhere. The scent had probably soaked into Mustang's hands and between that and touching things with the gloves, the scent got everywhere. There was a hint of it on the shirt, but it was mostly Mustang. A hint of cologne and the smell of his skin.

After a few moments, Ed angrily threw the shirt back into the hamper. _Damn it! I'm falling in love with him!_

—

Mustang got home three hours before he had to head back to headquarters. At least he could get some sleep. He looked over at the sofa, expecting to see the blond, but he wasn't there. He felt a thrill of fear before he remembered he'd offered him the bed. _Why am I so afraid of him leaving? He's far too young for you and not someone you need to be involved with. It's not like you don't have other things to worry about._

He went to his bedroom and found the blond curled up on one side of the bed. _His_ side. It was a king bed, but he was still used to the single twins of the military and tended to sleep close to one side. Mustang thought about using the sofa, but he decided there was enough room on the king.

The light of the half moon lit up the room enough to see the golden hair lying loosely on the pillow. Mustang had the urge to crawl in behind him, bury his face in that hair, and pull Ed against him.

Mustang shook his head. He took his alarm from the nightstand and moved it up. He'd forgo a shower and breakfast, even coffee, to get an extra hour of sleep. He stripped down to the white tank top he wore under his button down shirt and his boxers and lay down on the far opposite side of the bed. He was careful to not disturb the mattress springs, but Ed seemed to dead to the world.

Ed was not as deeply asleep as Mustang thought. Mustang never woke him, but he was too worried about Mustang to sleep in. In fact he woke up early. He got up and turned to go start some coffee, but he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He whirled. What the dark lump across the room was took a moment to register. He smiled; Mustang had made it home. Ed noticed the alarm was set later than he knew an officer should normally wake up; he set it ten minutes earlier then went to start breakfast.

If the alarm were alive, Mustang would have strangled it dead when it went off. He checked the time and remembered: no shower, no breakfast, no coffee. Growling, he dressed in the same uniform as yesterday. Then he remembered he meant to give himself a little longer. He looked to where Ed had been. He was gone.

Mustang found Ed, still not fully dressed and hair loose, cooking a second omelet.

"I better not find any blond hairs in my food." Mustang practically growled in the morning even without meaning it.

Ed turned, smiling, apparently aware that the growl was not meant for him. "Good morning. Have that one; coffee's ready."

Mustang started eating while watching Ed cook. "It still surprises me how good you are at cooking."

"Cooking is a science, like alchemy. Deconstruct, mix, and reconstruct. In the end there's flare."

"I'm glad your 'flare' in cooking is not like the 'flare' in your alchemy."

"What's wrong with my alchemy?"

"Please. You have a dark taste. Like that balcony you repaired after baiting the Homunculi with Scar. You have a thing about skulls."

"I don't think I've seen you create anything, just flames."

"I'm not one to show off."

"Humph. As if columns of flame and explosions aren't showing off." Ed brought his meal over to the kitchen table. "Should I ask?"

"About last night? Complete rubbish. I have to do the clean up today. Looks like there are some who still feel that we were behind Bradley's death and the whole thing was a coup. As right as they may be . . ." Mustang looked worn down.

"Are there a lot?"

"Luckily, no. But dealing with them and everyone else who thinks we're easier pray than Bradley is dumped on me. The old man owes his position to me, but he can be a sadistic old coot."

"I wish I could help."

"Even if you still had your alchemy you couldn't help much. I think having you here in Central might help. You were always a 'hero of the people.' People remember you."

"You want an influential friend by your side." Ed smirked.

"I wasn't considering my ambition, just your situation."

"Sorry. Kneejerk reaction. I do owe you. For your trust back then if not for anything else."

"No you don't. I need to get going or Hawkeye will kill me." He ate the last of food and gulped down the coffee. "Thanks for the breakfast, it means a lot."

Mustang left Ed sitting there with a small smile on his face. But he was left feeling more useless, like Mustang in the rain.

—

"Just made it." Hawkeye announced. "How many people did you mow down?"

"You can't force me to incriminate myself." _Though I'm worried I did run over one person._

And the day began.

And he wasn't sure if it got better worse. It would most decidedly end in disaster nevertheless.

Two hours later, Ed walked in. "If figured if you were preoccupied with last night, you'll get behind on everything else."

Ed wasn't really helping him get ahead, or even stay on track. Mustang kept looking up and staring at the blond nearby. He should move him into another room.

Noon. "Full—Ed, mind bringing me some lunch; I'm going to work through and try to finish this."

"Sure. What you want?"

"Anything." _Just get out of here and stop distracting me._

Ed left and Mustang sat back and rubbed his face. "I can't do this," he muttered.

Hawkeye chose that moment to come in. It seemed it only took a single glance for her to understand everything pertinent to the situation. She shut the door softly. Too softly.

"No sympathy, please."

"In three days?" The tone of her voice made it clear she knew everything.

He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. _How did it happen?_ "I saw him right after that transmutation when they were kids," he said even though he she knew it already. "I saw him lose it once or twice in past few years. But I never saw him so fragile as the night he came to see me. I've heard that many women fall in love with men who are broken; you pity them and try to put them back together. Maybe that's why. I can't believe how much he trusts me." Hawkeye seemed to relax. "What?"

"I've never seen you look so lost in love."

"I don't need this."

"Love is never convenient."

"You approve?"

"I know you'd never do anything to hurt Edward. And Al would kill you."

"But you don't mind if he drags me down when I'm this close to my goal?"

"He'd leave before he let that happen. You want me talk to him?"

"I'm not sure what he's thinking. I don't know if he's noticed. Yes, I'd like for you to talk to him."

Hawkeye left and Mustang managed to get some work done with the distraction gone and a little worry taken off his shoulders. And when Ed arrived, he felt better knowing the situation was out of his hands for a while, at least until Hawkeye talked to the blond. He even managed to eat with the young man.

Then the day got bad again.

Hawkeye rushed in. "General, one of the suspects from last night has escaped. He's armed."

Mustang didn't hesitate. Neither did Ed until he was half way to the door. Mustang looked over at him, but saw he didn't need to remind him he shouldn't come. Ed was left in the office feeling utterly useless again. He tried to focus on doing Mustang's paperwork.

An hour went by. Then two. Ed finally couldn't sit still and focus anymore. Mustang hadn't come back yet. Ed spent a lot of time staring out the window. There was no smoke, so whatever was going on it must be on the other side of the city. He ventured out into the outer office.

Hawkeye was still gone, but all the others were still there. "Any word about the general?"

Furey turned to him. "I'm not sure what's going on. There are causalities, but the man has been captured. Looks like the general got a few shots in; the man is suffering from burns. I've not heard anything else."

Ed had to remind himself he was a civilian and he couldn't just run out there and demand details. Ed sat in Hawkeye's chair and waited. Another hour and Hawkeye returned. Alone. Ed spotted the blood on her uniform and her slightly sad expression. Everyone perked up and stared at her expectantly.

"Mustang?"

"He's alive." That was never a good way to start a conversation. "He was wounded and taken to the hospital. He'll be fine."

Ed tore out of the room. Hawkeye followed, tossing a dismissal to the rest of the staff over her shoulder.

Hawkeye caught up and summoned a car.

"He'll be okay, Ed," she assured him as they rode to the hospital.

"Is he really?"

"He was shot, but still went after the man. I tried to stop him. He disabled the suspect. He collapsed due to blood loss, but the doctors said he'd be fine. The bullet didn't hit anything vital."

Ed didn't know where to go when they got to hospital, so Hawkeye was able to keep him at her elbow and keep him from tearing though the building.

She finally arrived at Mustang's room. Hawkeye nodded to the guard who left the room to guard it from the outside and closed the door to give them privacy.

Mustang was unconscious, pale(r), and rigged with an IV and a breathing mask.

"Roy," Ed called. Mustang didn't flinch. "Roy!" Ed repeated.

"I think he's drugged, Edward."

Ed collapsed. "Damn it! If I wasn't so useless I could have been out there with him and saved him!"

"He's not dead."

"It doesn't matter. I'm so useless!" Ed started crying hysterically.

Hawkeye rushed outside to find someone to help. Ed was having a complete breakdown right in front of her.


	3. New Doubts

Hawkeye was there when Mustang woke up the next morning. He expected Ed to be there and felt a bit stupid for expecting that and being disappointed that he wasn't.

"What's the damage?"

"The suspect was apprehended thanks to your efforts. Five injuries, including yourself. No deaths. The damage to the city was minimal."

"What about you, are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Me?"

"Gunshot wound to the left arm, it nicked a vein. You collapsed from blood lose; running around after being shot did not help matters. You'll be discharged tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? I've got work to do. I doubt Ed wants to cover _that_ much for me." Hawkeye shifted nervously. "What is it?"

"Edward's been sedated. He's suffering from a mental breakdown. You being injured and he not being able to prevent it triggered it."

"Damn it." He blamed himself. He should have worked harder at alleviating Ed's feelings of impotence. "Is it horrible that I want to just go to sleep and not see Ed?"

"Not if you have to ask the question."

"I should have been more careful."

"It's not your fault."

"No, I mean with him. I knew. I knew how fragile he was."

"What more could you have done for him?"

"I should have at least suggested a doctor. It didn't even cross my mind."

"Would he have gone? Ed doesn't seem the type."

"He came to me for help; I think he would have gone if I thought it would help him. He trusts me. It's not quite shell shock, but I could have sent him to a military doctor."

"Well, he's not listening to them. I think he's too worried about you."

"You knew at a glance what I was thinking; do you have to talk to Ed to tell me what he's thinking?"

"I'd say he was in love with you, but he's so confused and lost right now, I don't think either of you can really trust his feelings at the moment."

"When will I be discharged tomorrow?"

"Probably around noon."

"Can't you make it tonight?"

"No."

"Alright, but I'm not expected in at all tomorrow, right?"

"No, you'll have the rest of the day to deal with Edward."

"You might as well go home or back to the office. I'll go see Ed when the doctors let me."

That was three hours later. After a few pints of blood, there was some color in Mustang's cheeks and his pallor did not seem so ghoulish. Ed's door was open and Mustang stopped in the hall to gage Ed's state. Ed was awake, but clearly not happy. His eyes were dull with the sedative and his braid was frayed.

"Edward?"

Ed turned toward him, but he was under enough that there was no real change in his expression except something lit in his eyes.

"Roy? You're alright?" Ed's voice was slightly slurred.

"Just a flesh wound."

"Oh. You looked dead last night."

"I appreciate your concern, but this is a bit much," he said with a wave of a hand.

"I haven't felt that helpless since Scar destroyed my automail arm. Thinking about that, I remembered you were the one who showed up and saved by life."

"But it was raining and I ended up on my ass."

"But you turned his attention away from me. He would have killed me in that street. I don't remember if I ever thanked you. Thinking of that all that and that I never thanked you, made me lose it, thinking I'd never have that chance because I'm so useless."

"You're welcome."

"You said I was selfless and wanted to protect everyone else, but I can't do that anymore. I just wanted to protect you. I . . ."

Mustang's lungs froze. Though Mustang was expecting one answer, and hoping for it, another suggested itself. _I see you as a replacement for my brother, someone to protect._ Mustang knew that's not what Ed was thinking, but part of him still did not want to start a relationship with a boy nearly half his age.

"I'm tired." Mustang could continue breathing.

"You should sleep the drugs off. I'm being discharged tomorrow; try to be ready to come home by then."

—

Mustang was up before dawn, as usual. He was sitting up, arms crossed, and decidedly the angry, no coffee, intimidating Brigadier General when the various hospital staff came in to bring him breakfast, change his IV, clean out the trash . . . Finally, his doctor stepped in to discharge him and was gone as quickly. Mustang was dressed in full uniform within five minutes and looked all spit and polish except for the bloodstains all over his sleeve and a burnt hole where he was shot.

He was so used to Hawkeye's supernatural powers that he didn't think he had to ask her to pick up an extra shirt and jacket for him. _She's not your nursemaid. Or your wife._ But he thought she would have more forethought with Ed; seeing Mustang with a bloodied jacket may not be the best thing for his mental health.

To his surprise, Ed wasn't just awake and undrugged, he was dressed and ready to leave.

"They'll letting you go?"

"I told them I was your subordinate. They seem to be very hands off with you and your people."

"I think it's more because we had this place overrun four years ago. I think they'll do anything to keep us out of here."

Mustang led them outside. "No car."

"Lost without Hawkeye, huh?"

"I'm too used to her always being ahead of me."

A minute of trying to figure out what to do and a car pulled up. Hawkeye with a spare shirt and jacket.

"Sorry general. I didn't think they'd discharge you so quickly."

They got in. "I was beginning to wonder about you."

"Sorry to worry you, sir."

"Take us home." Mustang caught a smile on Hawkeye's face in the rearview mirror.

—

Mustang and Ed exited Hawkeye's car; Hawkeye called Mustang back. Ed waited patiently in front of Mustang's door. "In case you were wondering, I never got a chance to conduct that interview we were talking about yesterday."

It took a second for Mustang to catch her drift. "Oh, that's fine; it's been a hectic few days."

"Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"No, thank you."

Mustang let them in as Hawkeye drove back to Headquarters. Ed didn't go much further than the door.

"I should go. I've been a burden."

"You've been a godsend."

"I can't impose on you anymore."

"Where will you go? Are you just going to run from your problem and bottle it up until your brother comes home?"

Mustang's words stung. His father had accused him running away when he and Al burned down their home. Was he doing it again? But he didn't intend to run away from his problems—he didn't think that was possible—he thought he might go see his master. But he did feel like he was running. Running from what?

Mustang waited for a response, but got none. "I don't want you to go," he finally said.

Ed looked up at him. _Oh, yeah, that._ "I don't want to leave."

"Then don't." Mustang wanted to reach out to him, but he remembered what Hawkeye said, Ed was vulnerable and confused; he didn't want to take advantage of the boy.

"Roy . . . I . . ."

"I don't think you should say anything so soon after . . ."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Thanks, Roy. Are you going into headquarters today?"

"No. The benefit of getting shot is you get a day off," Mustang said with a smirk.

"How are you? I'm mean . . ."

"It doesn't even hurt much. The bullet singed the skin, but I'm used to burns. Doesn't hurt otherwise."

"It's just, I want to do something. Maybe I can clean out that spare bedroom you were mentioning."

"I shouldn't use my arm too much, but I can supervise."

"That's all you officers are capable of anyway. Leave the real work to the grunts."

At least Ed was beginning to recover his good humor. But Mustang wouldn't let himself forget how fragile the boy was again.

—

Ed collapsed on the spare bed when they were done. Mustang's arm was stitched and he could fell them stretching when he moved too much so Ed—with false annoyance—did most of the work.

Mustang retired to the living room to read. Really he was just holding a book in front of him to stare at while he thought. What did he really feel about Ed? What were his true feelings? He knew how Ed felt, he _knew_ it, but as Hawkeye said, he may not really feel that way, merely latching onto someone strong while he's feeling vulnerable. Could he afford to be in a relationship with a boy nearly half his age with his ambition? It wasn't just his ambition, others were depending on him.

_But what good is ambition if you're lonely and unhappy? And regretting not reaching out to grab something within reach that you desire this much?_

Mustang closed his book and reached for the phone. Hawkeye answered.

"Could it ruin me?" was all he said.

"Maybe. He is rather young. But he's not a child. People who know him know that. But then there's the fact he's male. You want my advice? Do what you both want to do. If you're not very obvious, we can keep it quite. I think most people respect or fear you enough to keep a lid on gossip. I think you'll survive. We all still have your back, general."

"Thank you, Riza."

Hawkeye's eyebrow raised. "You're welcome . . . sir."

He looked in on Ed. It was two hours until sunset and Ed was still sprawled on his back. When he first collapsed, he was open mouthed and amusing, not attractive. But now he was in a deep sleep and he looked young and beautiful. Mustang felt a pang. A thirteen year age difference. Mustang stared at the boy and felt inevitable depression sink into his shoulders. Ed was too young. Or he was too old.

Mustang went bed early and didn't want to get up in the morning. He suddenly wanted Ed out of his life for good. He was suffering having something he desired within his grasp, but knowing he should never reach for it.


	4. It Seems the Way to Mustang's Heart is

Ed seemed to want to sleep as much Mustang; he was still asleep when Mustang woke up. It was early, but Ed had been asleep for a long time. But he was breathing. Already dressed in full uniform, Mustang leaned over Ed.

"Edward?" Ed didn't move. He caressed the skin beside Ed's eye and said his name again. Ed flinched away from touch. Mustang decided to let him sleep.

—

Hawkeye mercifully did not mention that Mustang was nearly a half hour late. Whether she figured getting shot gave him some leeway or because she thought it was Ed's fault, he was thankful.

The expression on his face—only a slight difference only his staff would pick up—kept his staff from expressing their relief at having him back.

Hawkeye brought his coffee and she shut the door behind her.

"He's too young. Thirteen years."

"Good morning, general." Mustang nearly rolled his eyes. "You talked to him?"

"No. But I realized just how young he is. I hadn't done the calculation before."

"I think I need the day off."

Mustang looked up at her at first in shock. Then he understood. "You want a week?"

"I think just need a day."

"Approved."

Hawkeye left and Mustang sincerely thought his problems would be solved. Maybe once Ed was gone he would reconsider that date with her.

—

Ed held a piece of toast in his mouth as he looked through the window to see you had rung the doorbell; not being his house, he didn't want to answer. But at seeing Hawkeye, he opened the door.

"Did Mustang not make it in?"

"He did." She entered the house without waiting for an invitation.

"He forget something?"

"Most definitely." She turned to stare right at him.

Uncomfortable under her stare, "What?"

"Tell me the truth, Ed, do you love him?"

Ed wasn't ready for such a blunt question. "I . . . I . . . d—yes," he finally admitted.

"How do you feel about the age difference? He's thirteen years older than you."

"That doesn't matter to me."

"You realize that when you're thirty-five, he'll by nearly fifty?"

"I guess I never thought about that. I don't think I care. I feel safe with him, I feel needed, I feel . . ." He felt free to talk to her, mostly because she was a woman, but also because he trusted her as much as Mustang did. "I feel empty and completely alone when he's not around. I hate menial work, but I'll do it for him. I want to make him happy. I love seeing that smirk, even when it's at my expense. I dream of that smile and I can't think when I smell him. It's not even about sex really. I could live without that, but I can't live without him. Or at least I wouldn't be happy without him." Suddenly suspicious, "Did he send you here to ask me that?"

"No. I think he was hoping I'd tell you not to be in love with him."

"What? I thought . . . I thought . . . he never said anything, but I—"

"That's the problem; he's very much in love with you too."

"Then why?"

"He's afraid he's too old for you. He's also afraid of what a relationship with you would mean to his position. That's tearing him apart. He wants you, but he doesn't want to let anyone down. I assured him we would keep his back, but it seems it's your age that what worries him the most."

"But he's in love with me?"

"Oh, yes. But Ed, are you certain you really love him and it's not your situation that's making you think you love him?"

"Is it? Tell you the truth, I hope it is. I should go back to Resembool and marry Winrey."

"The age doesn't bother you?"

"It's not like I'll out live him by much."

"What do you mean?"

"Part of the price I paid to survive through all that four years ago."

"Does he know? Does your brother know?"

"I never told Al. He doesn't need to know yet. There was never a good time. 'Hey, Al, but the way, I cut a dozen or so years off my life.' I'll tell Roy though. Might make him feel better about all this."

"It might. Well, I have the rest of the day off, let's go out and I'll buy you lunch."

—

When it came time to leave, Mustang found himself hesitating. He wondered what he was going home to. Hawkeye never called, he didn't know what she said to Ed or how he took it. He was going to miss him. Work and some of his infamous womanizing might help him get over it; it wasn't like they'd even kissed.

But now Mustang was thinking about what it might be like to kiss the shorter blond. He was probably an aggressive kisser. Mustang remembered from when he held him in his arms how he smelt of metal and the smoke and upholstery of the train he rode in on that day. Ed was often riding trains from one assignment to another for Mustang four years ago. He never could ride a train without thinking of the blond, but before it was just a wistful thought, now he feared he might never be able to ride a train again without feeling like he did now.

He resigned himself to it.

It disturbed Mustang that he was getting used to coming home to an unlocked door, lights on, and the smell of dinner cooking. Because of Ed, the dining room table was clear with no overdue work on it and the books put back—temporarily at least—on their shelves. In their place was a pair of place settings.

Mustang hung his coat and made for his office where he ditched a small pile of work that accumulated without Hawkeye. He wanted to avoid Ed for a little while longer, but he finally decided he had to look in the kitchen and at least say 'hello.'

Ed saw him immediately. "Oh, you're home. Dinner will be out in a minute." And he turned back to his work. Mustang smirked and cleaned up. Mustang had noticed the disapproving look Ed gave his slicked back hair, so he stuck his head under the showerhead to wash the gel out. Honestly, he wouldn't do it except he looked a little careless and immature with his bangs hanging in his face. He had also noticed a slight dip in his social life as well. He came to the conclusion that his hair slicked back was just plain unattractive, at least on him. Once Ed left, he'd be sure to wash out the gel before he went 'on the prowl.'

Dinner was laid out and he liked the appreciative look on Ed's face when he saw his hair.

The dinner conversation was banal. And Ed kept stealing glances at the clock.

Finally, he explained why. "Desert should be ready."

"What?"

"Riza decided to instruct me in making a desert."

_Riza! _

Ed was gone for a few minutes then came back with a hot chocolate walnut brownie alamode doused in chocolate syrup, topped off with whip cream and clumsily shaved chocolate as garnish.

"She said this was your favorite and wrote out a recipe."

"It is." Mustang took a bite, making sure to get a little of each element in one spoonful. It was perfect.

Ed found himself holding his breath at the bliss on Mustang's face. He recovered before Mustang opened his eyes again.

"Perfect. Hughes brought Gracia to East City with him once and I took them and Hawkeye out to dinner. I commented on how this was my favorite desert; she must have remembered."

"I don't think she forgets much of anything."

"Nothing she deems important." He continued to savor the desert. "So she came over."

"Yeah. We talked, went out to lunch, went shopping," he gestured to the desert. "She wasn't sure at first that I could make something like this from scratch, but I said 'If I can read and pick up alchemy at four, then I can make a recipe.'"

"I will never doubt your skills again."

"No one has confidence in me," he complained good naturedly. He sobered. "You know, she was there when I broke down after seeing you injured. She tried to make me feel better, but she ended up saying pretty much the same thing as you. And I think I'm going to stay. Whatever position, I'm staying in Central."

Mustang felt his heart leap and his brain race, conflicting each other. Mustang had been setting himself up to let Ed go, but he wanted Ed, _wanted_ him. He was disappointed and excited at the same time.

"Did Hawkeye call you before you left?"

"No, I haven't heard from her since this morning."

"Oh." He wondered why he was hesitant to say anything when he knew Mustang felt for him too. Maybe because Mustang was pussyfooting around the subject too. He decided to just come out and say it.

"You know, the age difference means nothing to me," he said hurriedly. He wasn't entirely sure that was what he wanted to say.

The sudden declaration surprised Mustang. But he leaned back and smiled. "You're only nineteen."

"And you've been around the block so many times it's not funny."

"I think it still is."

"I guess it is," Ed said with a sincere smile. "It was always amusing to see the way Havoc was either jealous or nearly in tears that you stole another woman from him."

"I never stole a woman from him. I just got to them first."

"He knew you'd move on, did he think you ruined them for any other man?"

"Of course," Mustang said, preening. "Or else he didn't like the idea of jumping at my left-overs. Really I either went into a relationship hoping she'd be the one I'd marry or it was all just flirtation and fun, and I don't just mean in the bedroom. I'm not so callous as to date a different woman a week just for sport."

"Well, either you have the highest standards, unlucky, too many choices, just plan picky, or you don't know what you want."

"Maybe all of the above."

"Well, you must have figured out what you want by now. You've dated just about every available woman in at least two cities."

"Maybe I have," Mustang said, almost sighing.

"You should just marry Hawkeye."

Mustang was a little shocked at the amount of seriousness in Ed's voice. "Did she ask you make that suggestion today?"

"No, she suggested I move in with you."

There, it was out in the open, but could still, if a little awkwardly, be retracted as a joke.

"Did she." It wasn't a question.

"If my age is the only thing bothering you, you should know: I may be young, but I'm not going to live longer than you. Remember when I mentioned falling down that mineshaft and losing a few years off my life? I didn't mean it figuratively. I was impaled and I was dying. I used my own life as a philosopher's stone and heal the wound as much as I could. I know I took more than a decade off my life, though I can't be sure how much. In terms of life expectancy, we're at about the same age. I don't know if I'll start aging early or if I'll just drop dead earlier, but I won't outlive you."

Mustang sat there shocked, and a little horrified. Ed had put a hand to the scar as he spoke. It was on his left side. Mustang realized it was nigh the same spot he was impaled by Lust. Thinking that he was impaled by 'Lust' brought a smile back to his face and broke through everything else. He might as well have been impaled by Lust in a figurative sense. Not only were they both impaled through the same spot, but they both used their alchemy talents to save themselves. It all seemed fitting.

"I was impaled by Lust in the same spot."

Ed seemed to see the same humor in it as Mustang did.

They lingered for some time and it was time for Mustang to get some sleep. He was working with too little blood and only just enough sleep. They left the table, both feeling a bit lighter in spirit.

"Thank you, everything was delicious, especially the desert. I'll see you tomorrow. I will call that meeting to get you that position I promised a few days ago."

"Alright."

"Goodnight." Mustang surprised Ed by leaning down and kissing him on the lips. It was intimate, but closed mouthed. And all too soon, it was over. And Mustang was gone, leaving the younger man in a daze.

Mustang slept well that night.

—

Ed slept longer than Mustang again. He spent the rest of the day making sure in his own head that this was what he wanted. Mustang could have insisted last night. Actually, all the man would've had to do was suggest delicately, and Ed would have given him anything he wanted. But Mustang was giving him time; time he most desperately needed. He tried to peel his feelings of isolation, worthlessness, inadequateness, depression, hopelessness, and vulnerability away and see if he really did love Mustang. He liked him, enjoyed his company, found him attractive, valued him, and wanted to make him happy, but did he really _love_ him. All he had to do was remember the sound of his name on Mustang's lips, the headiness of the smell of the man's skin, and that kiss last night to drive his doubts away. Then for the first time, he wasn't just thinking about what it would be like to kiss the dark haired man, he was wondering what the sex would be like.


	5. Madame Christmas Can Solve Any Problem!

Mustang couldn't suppress a smirk throughout the day. Some on his staff felt that boded ill for someone. He felt like he did the time he stole his first kiss. His cheek wasn't stinging this time, but that didn't make it any less exhilarating, even the next day.

Hawkeye finally asked him about it.

"You told him how to make my favorite. That's not fair."

"If you feel ganged up on, why do look so happy?"

"I kissed him."

"And?"

"That's it, just a brief kiss." He was looking more smug. "I'm going to move slowly with him."

"Good. Moving too fast will get you both into trouble."

—

Hawkeye was a prophet. But it wasn't Mustang who moved too fast.

When he got home . . .

"I've made my decision, Roy. I want to stay. Here. With you. I love you."

Mustang was a little startled. He wanted to move more slowly, but Edward was raising himself on the balls of his feet and tilting his head up, offering his lips. Mustang knew he should push the boy away gently, but his ability to resist had been wearing thinner every day. The sight of Ed offering himself up like this was a defiantly turn on. _What the hell?_

Mustang had to bend his head and Ed had to stretch, but they managed a passionate kiss. It seemed like Mustang's mouth was permanently stained with the taste of coffee. Ed used one hand to pull himself up onto Mustang's body via his shoulder and the other was in his hair, trying to rid it of that damned hair jell that made him look far less sexy and more official. Mustang's right hand was holding Ed where his thigh and ass met, pulling him up and his left arm was wrapped around his back to keep him there. Their arousals rubbed against each other's until they were both desperate.

Ed began pulling at the buttons and snaps on Mustang's uniform—there were damned too many of them. He got the jacket open and used his hands to explore the muscles of the other's body. Mustang's hands were occupied by holding Ed up. Ed started opening the button down shirt. Ed let his weight fall a bit and Mustang let him down, breaking their kiss.

Ed licked at the Mustang's hairless pectoral muscle before finding the hardening nipple and sucking at it.

Mustang leaned back and massaged the back of Ed's neck with one hand enjoying the sensation. He struggled to escape the pleasurable fog in his mind. "Are you sure about this, Edward?"

"I want to be useful to you," Ed nearly whined.

Mustang stiffened then pushed Ed away violently. The romantic mood shattered instantly. Mustang's face hurt more than being shoved into a bookshelf; he looked betrayed. Ed realized what he'd done wrong. Ed felt like his guts had been removed.

Ed couldn't stand being looked at with those eyes and Mustang couldn't stand looking at him anymore. Mustang left, dragging his coat from the rack, pulling it after him. He didn't even attempt to slam the door.

Ed sat there at the base of the bookshelf without moving.

—

Ed left; it wasn't his home. Mustang should have ordered him out rather than storming out himself. At least Mustang could go home without finding him there now.

He walked toward the city and just walked; no destination in mind. He started going down back allies as if he was asking to be attacked. He still had his fighting skill, but he still felt helpless without his alchemy. He deserved whatever any ruffian did to him.

Twice he was nearly attacked, but people remembered him and backed off the moment they recognized him; he and his brother were the only ones in the world with gold hair and eyes since their father and all the people of Xerxes died. He kept walking the back allies waiting for some young kid or idiot who didn't know him or thought they could beat him.

He found his way to a brothel. He was left feeling like a whore, so he decided to go in. It seemed like a nice place, more like a bar except there were a lot of women. The women looked at him, obviously judging that he might be too young and they didn't approach him. He went to the bar.

"Aren't you a little young to be coming into a place like this?"

Ed dug out his ID and gave it to the Madam; she only looked at the date of birth, ignoring the name.

"Little short for a nineteen year old." Ed was too depressed to do more than glare. "What you interested in, hon?"

"I feel like shit."

"Whiskey." She poured him a jigger of whiskey. "Want to talk about it, hon?"

"I did something really stupid. I'm in love and I came off like a comm—" He just remembered where he was.

"I get it. Told you to get out?"

"Shoved me a way and stormed out. Nearly broke my ribs."

Ed sipped at the whiskey, recoiled at the taste. "Strong, but you look like you need it."

Ed sipped again. "I think I lost the most important person to me right now."

"Does she love you?"

Ed squirmed a little. "He. I don't know."

"What actually happened? I have a bit of experience and knowledge in these things you know."

"We finally kissed. And then I said something stupid. And he pushed me away."

"May I ask what you said?"

"That I wanted to be useful to him."

"That was stupid. I'd say from his reaction that he does love you."

"Not now."

"Humm. It really depends on you now. Explain what you meant and assure him you love him. I wouldn't try to kiss him for a while; he'll take it the wrong way."

"Thanks."

"I've been here a long time and served a lot of drinks to a lot of despondent lovers. Madame Christmas can solve any problem!"

There was something about that exaggerated pose that reminded him of a larky Roy Mustang. Ed felt compelled to introduce himself to someone who seemed to genuinely want to help him.

"My name's Edward Elric."

"Elric, one of the Elric brothers? Little Roy would always talk about you. He seemed to have lost contact with you the last few years. Have you told him you were in Central?"

"Are talking about Roy Mustang?"

"Of course."

"Yeah, he knows I'm here. He comes here a lot?"

"Not for the reason you might think. A few of these girls are more like sisters to him. You should go talk to him, he can solve any problem."

"Like you?"

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, maybe not exactly. Little Roy is my adopted son. Real name's Chris Mustang."

Ed couldn't keep his chin from hitting his chest.

"Not something he advertises; wouldn't do for the fuehrer to be the son of a Madame. His mother was the most beautiful woman; he looks just like her. His father was a State Alchemist; well, we assume so. She was the Lady of Central. Even the bigwigs had a hard time seeing her. She was divine; a living piece of art. To the rest of the city she was cold and emotionless, but she was the kindest creature. She looked out for the other girls. When she found out she was pregnant, she took a trip to the country. About a year later, she came back. This is the only life most of us know.

"She simply adored him. We all did, but he was her jewel. And he adored her as well. No matter what was wrong, one look at her face and he stopped crying. And no matter how low she felt, she could look at him and smile. Beautiful relationship.

"He was about five when she died. I'd taken over the brothel a year before and decided to adopt him. I made sure he got a good education and helped find him an alchemy teacher. He was a natural at alchemy. Probably not a prodigy, but good at it. As a teenager he came in handy as an additional bouncer.

"He really took after his mother, as kind as she was. Brilliant too. I was so glad he came back from Ishval alright. And as a hero no less. And with a goal. He is as determined as any man I've ever known. I see that people follow him and adore him as much as we all did."

"He does know how to inspire loyalty. And he is kind. Not many know that though."

Everything Roy had said to him that first night came back to him: Brilliant, determined, kind, protective . . . they were a lot alike. Both orphans of mothers they adored, fathers were absent alchemists, skilled at alchemy . . .

"I think he's a bit too sensitive to betrayal though," Ed muttered.

Her eyes lit with understanding. But before she could say anything, the door opened and the man himself walked in. He was set upon by three women and he didn't see Ed. He was practically dragging the three girls with him to the bar, his attention on them and not on who else was at the bar.

"Whiskey?" His adopted mother offered.

"Yeah, thank you." He was flirting with the girls in a way that made Ed very uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to be jealous.

Madame Christmas put down her son's drink and his eyes swept around the bar and he spotted Ed. Their eyes met. The glass never made it to his lips.

"Girls, you all have the rest of the night off. Shoo, shoo." Madame Christmas herded the girls out, leaving the two men alone.

Mustang found his voice once they were alone. "What are you doing here?"

"I felt like a whore so I came here."

"Are you serious?"

"Somewhat. I didn't mean it that way; I do love you. I guess I could've chosen my words more carefully."

"I may have overacted," Mustang admitted.

"My ribs are still together."

"Sorry."

"No, it's my fault. It's all my fault. Maybe I should go back to Resembool."

"No. It's my fault. I could have handled all this better. It seemed like as soon as you resigned, I washed my hands of you and your brother. I'm sorry. I should have seen this all coming."

"All of this?"

"Your breakdown at least. I feel responsible for it."

"It wasn't your fault."

"But I could have prevented it. I am sorry I overreacted, but I've fallen in love with you. I felt like I was just a way to . . . feel, to . . ." Mustang struggled for the right word. "For self punishment." Mustang's lips flinched with a wry smile which quickly faded. "To feel useful, needed. I felt used."

Ed hung his head. "I'm sorry, that wasn't my intention. But you are partially right. I'm so fucked up right now. I do want to feel something other than sadness and loneliness. I do want to feel used in a sort of . . . masochistic way. But I love you. It wasn't my intention to use you."

"Hawkeye told me that you were probably too confused to be starting a relationship. I shouldn't have given in my own desire. I knew we should have taken this a lot slower. This is all my fault." Mustang rubbed his face.

"No, I—"

"Neither of us is perfect." Mustang threw back the glass of whiskey. "Let's go home."

"I didn't pay or thank your—"

Mustang smirked. "You can thank my mother later."

—

When they got home, Ed strayed to the sofa and started to untie his hair.

"The bed's big enough for two. I think we proved that already."

Ed looked back at him. It seemed strange that just a few hours ago Mustang had pushed him away nearly violently enough to break his ribs and looked at him with such disgust. But Ed gave a little half smile and followed Mustang to the bedroom.

They both lay nearer the middle and lay still for a few minutes, neither of them falling asleep. Ed lay on his side facing away from Mustang while Mustang lay on his back. Mustang looked over at the blond and tentatively turned to put an arm over the younger man. Ed nestled back into Mustang's body. Ed never slept better.

—

I read recently that Chris Mustang is Roy's father's younger sister, but whatever. Ed married Winrey and had two kids, so . . . My story, my details.


	6. Exploring

Okay, this is a really short chapter, just to let you all know it's not been dropped. I've been kind of into hardcore stuff recently and since the series is over, it's been hard to get my act together and write Roy and Ed's first time together. That's been holding up the whole thing. I've even got Al reappearance all written, but that once sex scene is proving really hard to write.  
I believe I mentioned it earlier, the BDSM thing is not between Roy and Ed. I know many of you are waiting for that or confused by its inclusion in the description since this is a sweet love story between them—it's a flashback.

* * *

Mustang finally arranged that meeting he promised Ed and it turned into a series of meetings with most of the top State Alchemists and even the Freuer.

Mustang came home after the last one smiling. And with a large stack of papers.

"Why do you look so happy? Hawkeye going on vacation?"

Mustang dropped the pile on the coffee table. "We finished discussing your situation."

Ed's eyes widened with hope.

"Your experience and knowledge will be very welcome at headquarters. But only twice a week."

Ed's expression turned to joy, then dropped a little.

"Well, we shouldn't need your help more often than that. I don't believe that, but it doesn't matter because you'll be too busy to work at headquarters more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"With the State Alchemists scaling back, it's been decided that a university specializing in alchemy will be built here in Central. It will specialize in the basics and be a hub of reseach with the best library devoted to alchemy. It will also be somewhere for people to arrange apprenticeships. You can have whatever position you wish, but everyone hopes you will at the very least be the head of planning the whole thing out and the head of acquisitions. You can be the president of the university, professor, librarian, whatever you want once the university opens. But we want you consulting all the same."

Ed looked shocked, but elation was bleeding into his expression.

"We've put together a small committee that you'll head to plan everything out. You'll start on Monday. Tomorrow you can come in with me and find an office. I suggest you chose a big one and use it as headquarters for you planning sessions as well as your consulting office. Happy?"

"Ecstatic!"

"Good. You can thank me with food."

xxxxx

They were sleeping in the same bed since the night of their disastrous first kiss and Ed had moved the dresser from the spare bedroom into Mustang's room with all his clothes—though there weren't very many.

Their sexual relationship started with making out and Mustang palming Ed through some amount of fabric, then Ed reciprocating once he grew comfortable enough with the idea. Mustang's reaction was very gladifing and encouraging. Considering Mustang was being faithful to Ed and they weren't actually having sex, he appreciated anything at this point, but the fact it was Ed helped. Tonight, Mustang decided to move onto something more intimate.

"You want try something different?" Mustang asked just after they began kissing.

"What do you have in mind?"

"It won't hurt." Mustang knew that was one of the reasons Ed was hesitant to go further. "Just trust me."

"Alright."

Ed was already shirtless on his back. Mustang slid down his body and pulled Ed's boxers down, leaving him completely nude. The windows were open and the moon and streetlights gave them enough light to see, but Mustang couldn't see the blush he knew Ed must be wearing. This was in fact the first time Mustang had seen him naked and Ed was not quite comfortable with it.

Roy didn't waste any time; he gripped Ed's cock, locked eyes with Ed, and took the head of Ed's cock into his mouth. Ed was shocked, a little horrified, and embarrassed as hell.

"Roy!" he yelled, partially in surprise, partially in rebuke, and partially in pleasure. Mustang merely smiled around the head of his cock and began sucking and playing the tip of his tongue on the underside and over the slit. All of Ed's protests died. He shut his eyes and moaned.

Mustang went lower, running his tongue along the throbbing veins, feeling Ed's increasing heartbeat. Ed's hips gave an involuntary buck, but Mustang held him down. He took more and more of Ed's cock into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. A few seconds of mental preparation and he took him down his throat, now concentrating on breathing through his nose and not choking. His throat convulsed at the intrusion making Ed whimper. He managed to take all of his lover's length.

Feeling he was used to the process of deepthroating—this being his first time—he pulled back and started sucking in earnest. Ed was whimpering incomprehensible curses and mangled versions of his lover's name while his hands were clutching the sheets in spasms.

After a while, Ed was able to annunciate, desperate to warn Mustang. "Roy, I'm going to—" he stopped when Mustang redoubled his efforts. Ed tried to hold back, give Mustang time to pull away, but Mustang wasn't moving. Ed couldn't hold back any longer. With a strangled moan he released into Mustang's mouth. Mustang continued to suck until Ed sank completely into the mattress, completely spent.

Mustang crawled up and gave Ed a brief kiss on the lips. Ed shoved him away playfully.

"You bastard."

"I wish I could say you're the first to call me that after oral sex."

"I can't believe you did that."

"You enjoy it?"

"Yeah. You've done that before."

"No actually. But enough women have done it for me."

Ed started to move over Mustang and pull at his boxers. "What're you doing?"

"Equivalent exchange."

"You don't have to."

Ed shut him up by mimicking the man. Roy couldn't keep his eyes on the alluring sight, he threw his head back and enjoyed. Ed was inexperienced, but he did have enthusiasm, and a good teacher.


End file.
